


Inevitable Ruin

by xxtransitionxx (commencement)



Category: Alias
Genre: F/M, Gunplay, Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-15
Updated: 2011-06-15
Packaged: 2017-10-20 11:15:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/212187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/commencement/pseuds/xxtransitionxx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sark – Sydney – a gun – the sex</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inevitable Ruin

**Author's Note:**

> unbetaed and very old  
> Post Episode 4-09: A Man of His Word

Her apartment was dark when she unlocked the door, she sighed as she flipped the switch in the hallway. She had been working late, again.

Sark’s escape in Venice had translated in to paper hell for her. After filling out multiple reports detailing his abduction by Anna as well as his escape during the acquisition of the bomb she had been ready to pull her own teeth as long as it meant she could escape the office.

She headed into the bathroom and turned on the shower before undressing and stepping under the hot spray. Her tense shoulders gradually sank to a bearable level of tension.

She was so goddamned tired. Of the lies and deceit, of seeing everyone she cared for in mortal danger time and time again. Would it never end? Would there ever come a time when she felt truly safe?

She poured herself a glass of wine before going to bed. Piling her pillows high as she pulled her book from the nightstand drawer. There was nothing quite like a glass of wine and an entertaining read to take your mind of the troubles of everyday life.

“I’ll have a glass.” The crisp accented voice nearly made her drop her glass as she whirled to find her intruder.

“Sark.” She spat out his name.

His eyes on her nearly nude form were like a physical sensation. “I must compliment your taste in sleepwear agent Bristow. I too always had a preference for black lace”

Sydney pulled her comforter off the bed and wrapped it around herself. “What the fuck are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be off enjoying your fugitive status somewhere?”

“That’s where you are mistaken Sydney,” he paused for a moment, “you don’t mind if I call you Sydney do you?”

“Get to the point Sark”

“Ah right, the illusive point.” He grinned; pulling Sydney Bristow’s chain was proving to be as amusing as ever. “I was never a fugitive; as soon as I had the opportunity I contacted your father. How do you think he knew about the meeting with Guinot?”

Sidney hesitated, “so why are you here?”

He stepped closer, invading her personal space. “Well it seams we have some unfinished business to deal with you and I.”

“I… I don’t have any business with you Sark, unfinished or otherwise.”

“Now see. That’s where you’re wrong.” He stepped even closer, extending one hand to brush his fingers over her bare shoulder. “You gave me a promise at the club. And I intend to collect on that.”

She wanted to back away from him, she really did. But backing away would be handing him some sort of victory so she stood her ground as he came close enough to feel his breath against her ear.

“I don’t know how you managed to survive so many years with your overactive imagination Sark. But I have never promised you anything.”

“Well maybe not in so many words, but when a woman kisses a man with so much passion…” His lips skimmed across her earlobe. “Even going so far as to draw blood. Then she had better be prepared to make good on the inherent promise of her actions.”

She stiffened. “How about this for a promise then; if you don’t get away from me and out of my house in the next thirty seconds I fully intend to make a hole in your skull.”

The sound of a gun being cocked seemed to reverberate trough the room. The cool steel of the nozzle was nestled just below her ear.

“I’m not asking for much Sydney, all I want is a chance to reciprocate your actions from Venice, and I fully intend to get it.”

“Just a kiss…right?”

“Well… I wouldn’t call it just a kiss, but yes.”

She closed her eyes in defeat. Fine, just get it over with.

The cool pressure, on her neck disappeared and was replaced by his smooth warm hands as he tilted her head up. His lips were warm and soft on hers, coxing her to open up for him.

As soon as he felt Sydney responding his kiss turned more demanding, his tongue against hers demanding a response. Her body pressed against his lean form. His hands left her neck to wander down her back coming to rest on ass pulling her closer, letting her feel his reaction to her.

Sydney moaned low in her throat, this was crazy. Kissing Sark reminded her of her childhood trips on the Ferris wheel. Her heart was racing and she could hear her blood rushing. His erection pressing against her was making her mind spin.

She pulled away with a gasp. Her hand flying up to cover her mouth as she looked at him with wide eyes.

“What… What was that about?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that only 36 hours ago you were crying your eyes out over Lauren’s death. And now you’re kissing me like… like…”

“Like I want you?”

She nodded.

“I do.”

“But Lauren.”

Lauren Reed, though sexually uninhibited, was a complete and utter bitch. Even colder and more manipulative than your mother. And though I on occasion… mostly when I got tired of masturbating, enjoyed her sexual favors she meant little more to me than an inflatable doll.

“But… You were crying.”

He snorted. “Have you ever seen me cry, Sydney?”

“Vaughn said…”

Sark interrupted. “Agent Vaughn is an idiot, whose emotions are infinitely easy to exploit.”

“So it was all a game to you?”

“Not so much a game as a test.” A boyish smile played on his lips as he recalled Vaughn’s distress at seeing his dead cuckolding wife.

“You really are a bastard Sark.”

“Well seeing as how my parents were never married I’ll grant you that.”

Sydney lashed out; trying to wipe that infuriating smirk from his face, but Sark was faster. Catching her hand before it made contact.

His fingers felt like steel bands around her wrist and as he tugged on her, she stumbled against him. And then his mouth was on hers again.

Her free wrist was captured and secured behind her back as his lips crushed hers. She could taste the iron like sting of blood as the cut on his lip opened again and she let her tongue prod his wound, tasting him.

He was sin personified, her own personal Lucifer. And she was weak.

She didn’t even realize he had let her hands go before she was free to tangle them in the curls of his neck and when his hands found her breast her knees buckled and she knew that fighting the attraction was hopeless, she had already surrendered.

His hands was burning fiery trails across her body, caressing her breast, her tights. Making her legs fall open in a silent invitation. The back of her legs hit the bed and she let them fall back towards her inevitable ruin.

His tight pressed against hers making her spread them wider, allowing him in. she tugged restlessly on his clothes. His fine linen shirt lost its buttons as her impatience grew with each passing second.

He whispered in her ear, directing her attention in between detailed descriptions of what he would do to her, how hot and tight she would be around him. How he would make sure she would never want her boy scout again. Sydney was on fire. He was without a doubt the best looking man she had ever seen. And for the past thee years her unspoken attraction to him had been just that. Unspoken. But now he was here.

He slid down her body, off the bed, kneeling between her legs, giving her a wicked smile before attacking the lace between her legs.

His teeth and hands made short work of the flimsy fabric baring her to his talented advances. And Sydney’s horse groan when his mouth finally found her clit made him laugh. His tongue seemed to taunt her, finding all those places that none of her previous lovers had ever discovered making her arch off the bed begging, pleading for more.

She begged him when his fingers entered her, a whimpered plea for mercy, for him to let go. In her.

When his fingers curled within her tight heat her orgasm was nearly instant. The hoarse scream of his alias for the world to hear.

When he finally undid his pants and lowered himself over her, he paused long enough for her to meet his eyes.

This time, when you come. Call me Julian.

And she did.


End file.
